


the dust of snow | from a hemlock tree

by nausicaa_of_phaeacia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, I have no idea what I'm doing, Mention of Minor Character Death, Post-Hive, Post-Season/Series 03, The Retreat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:53:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6871141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson takes Daisy to the Retreat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the dust of snow | from a hemlock tree

**Author's Note:**

> This is a weird little thing I wrote in the morning before even having breakfast. I'm still incredibly tired and this is probably not my best fic, but I needed to write it.   
> Also, obviously, this was inspired by tumblr conversations. :)

Sometimes he thinks she still looks pale, but then again, that might also just be because he seems to be unable to remember Daisy being happy, at least not in more than a few blurry, colourful images. It’s like he _knows_ she’s been smiling and laughing upon a few distinctly remembered occasions he likes to remember, but he can’t get a sharper image, it’s rather just the fact that he remembers it to have happened.

To be fair, they haven’t had a lot of opportunities to smile lately, Daisy especially, and even now that it’s over, things haven’t exactly done a U-turn and bounced back to a family-friendly, carefree shape. Sure, Hive’s history, but that’s more or less everything’s there to celebrate, except for Mack and Elena having scheduled a sort of official first date for next week, maybe. Joey still hasn’t returned to the base; he’s sent the occasional message or two, but barely makes things better (she can relate to him not wanting to come back, of course, but it still hurts to not have him around, especially now). Andrew is still in a medically induced coma with May spending her days immediately next to him. Jemma keeps bringing her breakfast trays and dairy products and blankets, and at this point, Daisy is hoping that May is going to pull through as much as she’s hoping for Andrew to survive. May hasn’t said one reproachful word to her, and that’s probably what’s been saddening Daisy the most.

Coulson’s not sure if Lincoln having left after Hive had been defeated is something that’s been helping Daisy or burdening her. He thinks there might be hints of freedom in the way she looks into people’s eyes (when she does, that is), but there’s still some sort of raincloud following her, some invisible weight pulling her down, and even though that, too, certainly has been a loss to be mourned, he wagers it’s not Fitz‘ death, no matter how responsible everyone on the team feels about it. He’s not going to be naive: he knows what’s keeping her awake at night, what’s keeping her from going back to be _herself_ again, the fearless, strong team leader she used to be, complete with bad puns and cheeky remarks and an incomprehensibly permanent hunger for sweets that probably give you cavities from just looking at them.

It sounds weird, because it’s nothing compared to when she was under Hive’s control, but he misses her, and it’s like she’s retreating more and more into some sort of shell, reluctant to take responsibility for tactical decisions, scared of being trusted.

He makes up some story why they should be going to the Retreat, he won’t even be able to remember his exact words, but it’s obviously pretense. She still agrees, and he almost dares to hope for a smile, but she restricts herself to the only means of expression necessary, has been ever since they’ve all returned to the base (or what was left of it). Her sadness has become something he’s been carrying around with him.

She travels so light; it almost hurts to look at how small her overnight bag is these days. He guesses his suitcase is probably compensating for that right now, but still, it looks like Daisy’s afraid to spend more than two days in the same spot, like she doesn’t trust herself with the smallest timespan. He gestures for her to get into the passenger seat (he’s tried to sound as cheerful as possible offering her to fly Lola, but she’s declined, and it makes him sad because Daisy would only do that if she were really, really scared). At least she squeezes his hand for a second, and to be honest, it’s what makes him able to fly them to the forest.

The Retreat looks beautiful in winter; the cabin looks like something from a vintage postcard, with all the snow around it. Daisy doesn’t smile, but she gives him a grateful nod, and it’s all he needs at the moment.

Coulson tries his best to create a really good meal from the supplies in the cabin (okay, he’s brought some balsamico and a few herbs, also, fresh bread, but that’s all). Meanwhile, Daisy is taking care of the fire, carefully pushing the wood around as she’s sitting on the carpet in front of the fireplace. 

Their first few days remain quite uneventful; Daisy must know they didn’t come here for a mission because she doesn’t ask any questions. She spends a lot of time taking long walks around the forest, alone. Coulson can’t deny he would like to be around her, but he figures this is what she needs right now. He takes to re-reading a few classic novels (apparently, Bruce Banner likes James Joyce, also, Hemingway).

After almost a week, Daisy starts looking a little more at peace, like she’s got enough room for her thoughts out here, like she’s been allowing herself to take a break from everything. She carries herself with a little more confidence now, like she knows where she’s going, and like her choices don’t bother her right now. Coulson carefully makes her decide small things, tiny things that day: ricotta or meat ravioli, coffee before or after her afternoon walk, who gets to use the shower first, candles or no candles. He swears there’s a hint of a smile in her expression as they go to sleep, Coulson on the couch by the fireside, Daisy in the bedroom under the roof.

The next morning, she almost catches him making a call over satellite phone (he barely manages to hide it inside the cutlery drawer when he hears her take the last few steps down). She seems to be very pleased that he’s already prepared breakfast, including beautifully scented herb tea and perfect soft-boiled eggs (okay, he brought those, too).

When there’s a knock on the cabin’s door in the afternoon (it’s snowing, so Daisy hasn’t gone for her usual walk), she looks very worried.   
“It’s okay,” he says, “I know who it is.”   
Coulson goes to open the door, and there’s Polly Hinton, little Robin hugging her leg, with a large bag.  
Daisy looks sort of overwhelmed, and Coulson steps in to take Mrs Hinton’s luggage and shake little Robin’s hand, making small talk to give Daisy all the time she needs to brace herself for meeting them.

Finally, she steps out from behind the kitchen’s doorframe, smiles shyly and goes to shake hands with both visitors, admiring how Robin can reach up her lap now. She can feel the gratitude in Mrs Hinton’s voice, and it surprises her that for some reason, this doesn’t make her want to leave. It’s an equally familiar feeling, though, and Daisy knows that no matter what happens, these two people are going to depend on her, that she’s always going to protect them. Robin keeps grabbing her thumbs, trying to stay upright, and it finally, finally makes Daisy laugh when Robin lands on the carpet anyway, giggling as though she’s just told Daisy the best joke.

She almost doesn’t dare to look at Coulson (who is fixing a large pot of tea in the kitchen), and it looks like he’s a little embarrassed, but she manages to meet his eyes for a moment, and even though she’s this close to tearing up, this is the happiest she’s been in weeks, like this is the first time since Hive that she doesn’t need to watch her expression, censor herself, the first time since then that she doesn’t feel the need to punish herself through denying herself all these little things.

The Hintons stay for two days (Daisy takes the other couch downstairs), and Robin gets to throw snowballs at Daisy and to roll down tiny slopes, laughing. It’s almost like nothing else exists, like this small forest is all anybody ever needed to feel like themselves. 

When finally, a S.H.I.E.L.D. SUV comes to pick them up, Daisy thinks it feels like they’ve spent weeks, maybe a whole winter together. She waves them goodbye and to her surprise, she notices she’s been breathing again this whole time, hasn’t been paying attention to anything sitting on her shoulders or chest. It weirdly feels like remembering something, like getting back a small memory you haven’t been able to recall in detail.

Coulson’s poking at the fire as she steps back inside, and he doesn’t even have a chance to anticipate her hugging him from behind. It’s a pretty unstable move (they are both crouching on the carpet, after all), but he hugs her arms with one hand, doesn’t say anything. Daisy’s trying really hard to not lose her balance, but she’s never been great at rhythmic gymnastics, okay, that’s just a fact, and she doubts Coulson has. He manages to release the poker before they tumble, Daisy to the right, Coulson to the left, and after an initial moment of awkward silence, they burst out laughing.

He wishes he could just freeze this moment, both of them awkwardly spread on the carpet before the fireplace, holding their sides laughing, because Daisy looks like herself again, because this is the face he’s been missing in all his blurry memories of her being happy. It ends, of course, after two or three shared laughing fits, and she pulls him up so they can go and prepare dinner. He almost forgets about the whole thing during their lively conversation at the table, until she takes him by the shoulder and _kisses_ him before going to the bathroom to change into her pajamas.  
Not that briefly.  
On the lips.  
And he suddenly forgets how to move.

He knows not to make himself hope for another kiss, or anything else, for that matter, he’s seen enough. This might just as well never happen again, and he won’t make a fool of himself and wait for a repetition. And he thinks he’s going to be totally fine if the kiss wasn’t something she meant _like that_. To be honest: why would she. That would be absurd.   
And still – until she opens that bathroom door again, anything is possible.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it :)
> 
> The title is from a Robert Frost poem, _Dust of Snow_ :
> 
> The way a crow  
> Shook down on me  
> The dust of snow  
> From a hemlock tree
> 
> Has given my heart  
> A change of mood  
> And saved some part  
> Of a day I had rued.


End file.
